


live happily with sugar on

by colazitron



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Evakteket Challenge, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: While Even tries to work up the courage to approach the cute boy on the tram, the cute boy approaches him. Berries are involved.





	live happily with sugar on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittpurrson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittpurrson/gifts), [imminentinertia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imminentinertia/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the characters depicted herein or their creators. I made this all up and am sharing it for fun.
> 
>  **A/N:** This is for imminentinertia and kittpurrson's evakteket challenge, following the prompts "getting together", "childhood", and "summer". You'll see I've taken a bit of liberty with at least one of those concepts. Thank you two babes for organising this and an additional thankyou to birthmarks for making sure things in this fic felt good, not god. ;)
> 
> The titel is a (google) translated line from "Vise For Gærne Jinter", a song about fine strawberries, fine boys, and fine memories. No, I'm not making that up. [Here's a gay choir from Oslo performing it.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfALg1Z67EE)

Even watches Isak balance his cup of coffee and blueberry muffin as he weaves his way through the coffeeshop over to the table Even grabbed for them. He's flicking his toes back and forth in his shoes, the insides of his belly dancing with butterflies. Isak sets his cup and plate down with a slightly-too-loud clang and pulls a quick grimace at the noise. He sighs a little when he sits in the chair before reaching up and brushing a bit of hair to the side from where it has flopped down into his eyes. When he looks up to smile at Even, Even's already grinning.

He's on a date with Isak.

Isak huffs a laugh.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” he asks.

There are a few beauty marks sprinkled over Isak's face like splotches of paint.

“No, you're fine,” Even says.

Isak waggles his eyebrows, and Even feels his cheeks plump as his grin widens.

“I'm just, like, happy we're here.”

“In this coffeeshop?” Isak teases, and makes a show of looking around. “I like all the plants. Nice décor.”

“On a date,” Even clarifies, still grinning.

Isak's smile widens a bit at that too.

“Yeah, me too,” he says.

Belly warm, Even bites his tongue and then watches Isak break their gaze as he stirs a dash of sugar into his coffee. Even doesn't really want to take his eyes off him, but he probably should. It wouldn't be the first time he's scared someone off because _‘You're always so intense, Even, I just don't know if I can keep up with you’_. So Even turns to his own cup of coffee and swirls his spoon around in it for a bit, the clink-clink of their coffee spoons the only sound between them. But between the smile still on Isak’s face when Even looks up for a moment and the chatter and clink-clink of twenty other people over the soft warbling of... an off brand Ed Sheeran song? it doesn't seem awkward.

“So, I have a question,” Isak says, when he puts his spoon down and looks back up at Even.

“Yeah?”

“Is this our first date, or do you count following me around Valkyrie plass market?”

Isak's grinning as he says it, eyes gleaming.

“I wasn't following you!” Even blusters.

He was absolutely following Isak.

The thing is, the first time Even saw Isak on the tram wasn't actually the first time Even saw Isak on the tram. It took him a moment to place the spark of recognition that followed the appreciation of a truly pretty face, but then Even was pretty sure the blond boy wrinkling his brow at his phone screen was the same boy he used to sometimes see on the way to or from school when he had to repeat his third year at Bakka. It was a shit year, and the only reason Even remembers a boy he occasionally saw on public transport is that those brief glimpses of The Pretty Blond Boy were sometimes the highlight of Even's days, as sad as that is.

In the years since then he hasn't seen him – for obvious reasons – so seeing him again after a particularly gruelling seminar session three years later had felt a bit like a sign. Especially when it kept happening. At first Even figured he might attend KHiO too, since he tended to see him on trips to and from class, but since Isak never got on or off at the same stops he did that probably wasn't it. Maybe they live close to each other.

Maybe, not being bogged down by all the shit that was happening in his late teens, this time around Even would figure out a way to approach a pretty boy on public transport without it being the creepiest thing he'd ever done.

And then at some point Isak clearly started noticing him back. They'd nod at each other, or smile in greeting, and it was nice to see a familiar face occasionally. And such a pretty one too.

So when Even saw him on a random Saturday in August on his way over to Yousef's place, he made the split second decision to not get off the tram where he should and instead stayed on it as long as Isak did. Thankfully, it was pretty obvious where Isak was going when he got off, and Even managed to amble far enough behind Isak in the direction of Valkyrie plass market that it didn't look too suspiciously like he was following him.

But, yeah. That's what he'd done. Definitely not the least creepy way to approach a pretty boy you've seen on public transport. Not really Even's finest hour.

“Oh, so seeing you around every corner was a complete coincidence? That's the story you're sticking with?” Isak asks, eyebrows climbing up his forehead.

Even's cheeks flush with heat even as he attempts a hopefully-charming smile. He had absolutely made sure to catch Isak's eye a number of times while still stressing about whether approaching him would be a step too far until Isak popped up next to him and quipped a cheery, _'Hi, I'm Isak, in case you were wondering'_.

“Yep. Complete coincidence,” he insists.

“Hm,” Isak hums. “Well, it's a good thing I started talking to you then. Since you apparently weren't going to.”

Even laughs, heart glowing when Isak's eyes light up at the sound.

“That probably is a good thing,” he concedes. “I can be a bit shy.”

Isak huffs a little laugh.

“You don't seem very shy,” he says.

“Well, once you're already talking to someone it's easy to just keep doing that. But getting to that point is a bit harder,” Even says. There's hardly a topic too inane that Even couldn't chat about it for at least a good fifteen minutes, but approaching someone out of the blue to do that takes a level of guts Even doesn't exactly excel at.

Isak hums contemplatively and then takes a careful sip of his coffee.

“I think it's the other way around, for me,” he says then. “Saying hello is easy, but then actually keeping up a conversation? Exhausting.”

“Well, you're doing alright so far,” Even grins.

Isak rolls his eyes and sets his coffee cup back down. Even watches him look between his spoon and muffin for a moment or two and then seemingly decide against using it, tearing a piece of the muffin off with his fingers and popping it in his mouth. He's got beautiful long fingers, and the way he touches things makes everything look precious and small. There's something… delicate about the touch of Isak's hands and Even wrestles his thoughts away from that particular train of thought before it can go anywhere not suited for an afternoon coffee date.

“Thank you,” Isak says once he's swallowed. “That's actually why I bought this muffin; just to stall. I don't even like blueberries.”

Even laughs.

“You bought blueberries on Saturday,” he points out.

Isak clicks his fingers and pulls a faux-regretful face.

“Damn. I knew I was forgetting something. Foiled again,” he says, smile curling his lips.

“You're gonna have to try harder than that to fool me,” Even teases.

“You don't want me to fool you. I'm good at it.”

“Really? You're a good liar?”

“I'm an amazing liar when I have to be,” Isak insists, leaning back in his chair a bit.

“When does one ever have to be a great liar?” Even asks. “Technically.”

Isak shrugs. “Surprise parties.”

Even snorts a laugh.

“Okay, yeah. That's true,” he relents.

“Don't tell me you're one of those 'brutally honest' people,” Isak says, wrinkling his nose a bit.

“No,” Even admits with a shrug of his own. “But don't you wonder sometimes if you should be? If there's ever really a reason to lie?”

“I don't believe in brutal anything,” Isak says. “Sparing a person's feelings is definitely more important to me than perfect honesty, and white lies are a grey area anyway. Like, how untrue does it have to be for it to count as a lie? If I tell my mum I'm fine when I generally am, but I'm having a shit day and I don't want to burden her with it, or I just don't want to talk about it – is that a lie? A morally reprehensible one?”

“I don't know,” Even says. “Does it feel like lying?”

“Not to me,” Isak says and tears off another piece of his muffin.

“Is that why you're stalling?” Even teases, and watches Isak grin in response.

“Yep. You caught me. I'm actually lying right now,” he deadpans.

“You're lying about lying? So you're telling the truth?” Even grins.

“But if I'm telling the truth, then doesn't that mean I'm lying?” Isak grins back.

Even huffs another laugh.

“If I'd known we were going to be discussing the nature of truth here, I'd have brushed up on my philosophy knowledge.”

“You have philosophy knowledge?”

“Not really,” Even admits and reaches for his own coffee. “I read Sophie's World once.”

“You do… design, you said? At KHiO?” Isak asks.

Even swallows and then nods.

“Graphic design and illustration, yeah.”

“That's cool. I have zero artistic ability,” Isak says.

“You do music production though, right?”

“Hm. Music and sound production, yeah,” Isak nods. “At Noroff.”

“That takes artistic ability,” Even points out.

“Yes, well. Not the, like, drawing kind.”

Even shrugs.

“Still artistic,” he says. “I love music, but you really shouldn't ask me to make it. I used to want to play guitar, but nothing ever came of it, even though my uncle gave me two of his old guitars.”

“Two?” Isak repeats. “And you never learned to play?”

“I taught myself about five chords, but I just didn't have the patience for it,” Even says.

“But you have the patience for drawing?”

“Yeah, that's different,” Even says, and takes another sip of coffee, mulling it over. Isak takes a bite from his muffin and waits.

“It's like there's an immediate payoff with drawing,” Even finally says. “I can see every line, and I can correct every one of them too. With music you have to get all of it right for it to make sense. Musical notes are only good in relation to each other. You know what I mean?”

Isak considers him for a moment, and then his smile widens.

“I mean, I could say the literal exact same thing about drawing. Every line only makes sense in relation to each other. But then I find music easy and drawing impossible, so,” he says, letting the rest of the sentence hang between them.

“So indeed,” Even laughs.

“So we're not going to be competing for jobs; that certainly makes this whole dating thing easier,” Isak quips.

“That's certainly one way to look at it.”

They lapse into silence again, and Even watches Isak finish his muffin, licking all the crumbs off his lips and fingers when he's done and slumping in his chair in apparent satisfaction, if the half-moan he makes along with it is any indication. Even wrestles his thought-train away from that as well.

“Good muffin?” he asks.

“So good,” Isak confirms. “I love blueberries.”

“I figured,” Even grins, thinking of the tub of blueberries Isak bought last Saturday, and the way his eyes lit up when he realised there were blueberry muffins in the pastry show case earlier at the counter.

“Also raspberries. Strawberries. Blackberries,” Isak lists.

“All the berries?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Isak grins. “I used to go berry picking a lot with my grandma as a kid.”

“Me too,” Even says. “Those tiny little forest strawberries? So good.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Isak says. “They're the best.”

Even laughs.

“You _really_ love berries.”

Isak shrugs, eyes twinkling as he smiles.

“I really do. They're my favourite fruit probably,” he says.

“I think mine are peaches,” Even says. “Or kiwis, maybe.”

“Also good,” Isak grants, before he reaches for his cup of coffee again.

Even sort of forgot he had one of those, but he takes the opportunity to take a few sips of his own as well.

“So what do you want to do when you're done? Graphic design or illustration?” Isak asks, setting his cup back down.

“I want to do illustrations for children's books, preferably,” Even says.

“That's specific.”

“They tend to be illustrated,” Even says with a shrug, “So there's a good chance you'll find work. But also I really like children's books.”

“Yeah? What about them?” Isak asks.

Even clocks the way he leans forward, the slight tilt of his head, the way he looks at Even.

“It's really hard to tell a good story in twenty sentences – in a way that makes sense to a child and is interesting and, you know, good,” Even says. “So in kids' books illustrations are a lot more part of the story than in many other things, I feel. You get to be part of the storytelling process.”

Isak hums and nods a little like he's processing it, and Even tries not to shift in his seat. He's a chronic oversharer, usually. Doesn't mind telling people almost anything. But there's something about the focussed attention of someone you want to impress that makes every word feel heavy and unwieldy. It makes Even clumsy, makes him stumble over words like he doesn't know what to do with them. It's unnerving.

“Yeah, I get that, I think,” Isak says, smiling softly.

“What do you want to do when you're done?” Even asks, glad to shift the focus back on Isak.

Isak sighs deeply, and gives a sheepish shrug.

“I don't know,” he says. “I like music, but I can't say yet if I really like it so much better than all the other things. I like sound editing for movies and TV too. And who knows, maybe I'll just end up recording and mixing advertisement jingles for the rest of my life.”

“Somebody's gotta do it,” Even says.

“Somebody does,” Isak agrees.

“Doesn't have to be you if you don't want,” Even says, and slides his foot forward under the table until he can lightly tap his toes against the side of Isak's foot.

Isak ducks his head a little and smiles.

“Yeah, we'll see,” he says, and grabs his cup of coffee again. Even wasn't aware you could take such tiny sips of a cappuccino, but he's not complaining. He's not eager to leave, so the longer Isak takes, the longer this date goes, as far as he's concerned.

Half an hour later, Isak's cup of cappuccino is empty, and he makes absolutely no noise about leaving. Instead, they keep talking, and when they feel like they've sat there taking up a table without really consuming all that much more for long enough, they leave and get ice cream, ambling around the Botanical Gardens aimlessly with their shoulders brushing occasionally. They stay and wander until the sun starts setting and the Gardens close, and even though his feet are starting to ache by then, Even might as well be walking on air.

“Shall we get a kebab or something?” Isak suggests. “I'm kind of hungry now.”

Even buries his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and tries for a nonchalant nod.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, because Isak still doesn't want to end their day together. “We could go sit in Sofienbergpark with it?”

“Sounds good,” Isak says.

It's only after they've sat down on the steps in front of Sofienberg Church and started to eat in companionable silence, that Even realises raw onion maybe wasn't exactly the right choice for food on a first date. But then again that's presumptuous, isn't it? Thinking that Isak might want to kiss him? They have spent the last six hours together but it's still a first date – because Even definitely is not going to count the half hour he spent following Isak around at the farmer's market and the second half hour he spent following Isak around the market while talking to him and eventually scheduling this date. He's not going to tell their grandchildren that their first date was him basically stalking Isak, they might get the wrong idea. Never mind that Even's getting ahead of himself. He's not going to tell his parents that either when he tells them about Isak.

God, he hopes he'll get to tell his parents about Isak.

“I feel like I did something incredibly stupid by agreeing to go on a date with a guy who literally stalked me off the tram, but I had a really great time today,” Isak says into the blue when he's done with his kebab and wiped his mouth off with his paper napkin.

Even laughs as his cheeks heat, glad the settling dusk will probably make the red in them a little less visible.

“Not my finest moment,” he agrees.

“If you were anyone else…” Isak says and trails off, shaking his head. Even's not quite sure if he's shaking his head at himself or Even, but either one is probably appropriate.

“Anyone else than…?” he can't resist asking.

“Anyone else than the cute guy I've been looking for on every stupid tram I got on in the past few weeks,” Isak says with a small, breathless laugh. “Now stop fishing for compliments.”

Even laughs, and balls up his own empty wrapper.

“I have a confession to make,” he says then.

“Is this where you tell me you are going to murder me after all? Because I work out. I could take you,” Isak says. He's mostly joking, but maybe there is a bit of a tension that makes his shoulders rigid like he's actually bracing himself for something.

Even looks at him for a moment, and then lets his smile slip into something more intimate.

“I'm sure you could,” he says, and waits for the implication to settle in and for Isak's shoulders to relax before he goes on.

“But, no, it's actually something else. It's going to sound really weird though, and I might be wrong?” he hedges.

Isak looks a little amused, but at least not really worried anymore.

“Okay?” he prompts.

“I went to Bakka, and I think I used to see you around there on the tram, actually, when I was still in school,” Even says.

“Are you kidding me?” Isak asks, eyes wide.

“No! I promise,” Even laughs. “I had to repeat my last year and it was a really shit year. And there was a really pretty boy I sometimes saw around the tram stop I got off at, and he looked like you.”

“I did live around there for a bit,” Isak says. “I went to Nissen though.”

“I did look for you at school and never found you,” Even says with a grin.

Isak laughs a disbelieving little laugh.

“You're sure it was me?”

“You were usually in lightwash jeans and snapbacks. And you had these grey mittens with a red pattern on them,” Even says.

“Sounds a lot like me,” Isak says, eyes wide again.

Even beams.

“Almost makes you want to believe in fate,” he says. “But I don't really like the idea.”

“No?” Isak asks. “I mean, me neither, but – why?”

“I prefer to think it's your choices that get you where you are, rather than some sort of cosmic guiding force,” Even says, shrugging a little. “And it seems so arbitrary, to say some things are fate. Like, was that kebab I just had fate? Was me wearing this particular jacket today fate? Why is it only fate when it's something rare?”

Isak huffs a laugh and beams at him.

“I sort of agree, I think. But – there are infinite parallel universes out there anyway. One where you didn't have the kebab, and you didn't wear that jacket. And one where you didn't see me on your way to school and one where you did but you didn't see me a couple weeks ago and so on,” he says. “So why would fate bother steering us a certain way when everything that can happen literally does happen somewhere?”

“I'm not sure I like that either,” Even says, feeling his face scrunch up in a frown. Isak only keeps smiling at him.

“No?”

“No. What does a choice matter if every choice you could make is realised somewhere?” Even asks.

“Well, all the other options are realised elsewhere. This is still the choice you made here. This is the only life you have access to,” Isak says. “So it matters.”

Even hums in response and tries to let that sink in.

“But then, does it even make a difference? What happens in those other universes?”

Isak laughs like Even's asked him something he's wondered about a lot as well, and Even can't help but smile in response.

“Probably not, no,” he says. “I just find the idea fascinating.”

“Fair enough,” Even says with a light laugh of his own. This is the kind of conversation he'd usually have high, but he hasn't smoked weed in a good while, and the fact that he can have this conversation with Isak sober and not feel silly for it feels almost as big as having bumped into him again three years after finishing school.

“It's still statistically unlikely though,” Isak grins.

“What is?”

“Us bumping into each other again. Oslo's not that big, but it's big enough,” Isak says. “I moved after school.”

“So did I,” Even says with a grin.

Isak grins back. “Close enough to see me on the tram again.”

“Statistically unlikely,” Even repeats. “I can live with that.”

“Yep. We're two very special snowflakes.”

“Well, I could've told you that without statistics,” Even says, and then gets up from the ground, the stone getting a little cold under his bum.

Isak takes the hand he holds out to him to help him up, and there's a bit of an awkward moment where neither of them seems to know if they should let go of each other again. Then Even makes the decision that given the fact they just spent a good six hours together and haven't gotten sick of each other yet probably means he can risk it, and slots his fingers between Isak's.

“Can I walk you home?” Even asks. Loathe as he is to admit it, this day does have to come to an end. Time doesn't stop, even for statistical unlikelihood.

“I would like that,” Isak says, looking at Even through his eyelashes in a way that makes Even wonder how obvious it would be to dig through his pockets in search of a piece of gum.

Isak's student housing isn't far, and even with both of them almost dragging their feet and taking the long way round, it takes no longer than 20 minutes to get there and then their date really has come to an end. They stand a little to the side of the main entrance, facing each other, both unwilling to let go just yet.

“Do I get to see you again?” Even asks, even though he's relatively certain of the answer.

“You mean other than on statistically unlikely tram journeys?” Isak teases, but then he's doing that eyelashes thing again.

“Yeah, I was thinking regularly scheduled meetings in mutually agreed upon places,” Even says, shifting his hold on Isak's hand so he can rub a thumb over his knuckles.

Isak shifts his weight on his feet and turns his head away for a moment, clearly trying to tamp down a grin. Even balls his other hand to a fist inside the pocket of his jacket, trying not to bounce on the balls of his feet.

“I think that would be alright,” Isak says, turning back to Even, grin still bright on his face.

“Yeah?” Even asks, swaying a little closer, pulled like a moth to the light of Isak's smile.

“Yeah,” Isak says. He sways closer too, and then before Even really realises what's happening they're kissing, onion breath and all. Isak's still smiling, and Even's smiling a little too, but they manage to smack their lips together a couple times before it gets too awkward to go on, and then Isak bumps their noses together and giggles in a way that has Even dreaming of the proverbial white picket fence.

“I'm so glad you're a weirdo who followed me off the tram,” he says, voice quiet enough for half the words to almost get lost in the buzz of the city around them, even quiet as it is at this time of night.

“I'm glad you're a weirdo who doesn't run away from someone who follows them off the tram,” Even says, and then catches the sound of Isak's laugh with his lips, stealing another few kisses. They both tilt their heads the same way, and their rhythm's still off, so Even ends up with both of Isak's puckered lips between his own, but Even doesn't mind – can't mind anything when Isak's hand is still warm in his, and his laugh sounds sweet against his lips.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Even mumbles in between kisses.

“Only until about noon,” Isak says.

“Text me once you're free? We can have lunch,” Even suggests.

“And then?”

“Whatever you want.”

“World domination,” Isak says, and Even has to drop his head down to rest on Isak's shoulder as he laughs.

“Yeah, alright,” he agrees. “I'll get a good night's sleep and then we can start brainstorming tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Isak says, and kisses him again before taking a step back. Not far enough to break the hold Even has on his hand, but far enough to make a point. A good night's sleep requires they let each other go.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Even says, more of a promise than a question.

“Tomorrow,” Isak confirms, and then he does pull his hand away from Even's and with a final smile turns around.

Even watches him fumble his keys from his pocket, and not turn around once while he's walking up to the building and through the door, like he can tell that Even's looking after him like some sort of lovelorn puppy. He's pretty sure he floats home, once Isak's been swallowed up by the large red brick building.

On their second afternoon together they have ice cream and sit around Sofienbergpark again, and Even can't help but notice that Isak picked the raspberry flavour after having had strawberry the day before. For their third date, a week after their not-so-accidental run-in at the farmer's market, Even decides to take Isak out to his grandma's place – who's on holiday with her sudoku club friends – for the little forest behind her garden. He's pretty sure he still remembers where the blueberries grow.

Isak looks at him a little strangely once they get off the tram near Lachmansvei, but doesn't say anything, up until Even has lead him all the way to his grandmother's little house.

“Okay, are you kidding me?” Isak says then, stopping in his tracks. He doesn't pull his hand from Even's though, despite the look of utter confusion on his face.

“No?” Even hedges. “I told you we'd be going to my grandma's–”

“Yes, but my grandmother used to live literally two doors down,” Isak says.

Even stares at him for a moment.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Yes!”

Even lets his eyes flit between the house Isak indicated and the frankly unnecessary look of suspicion on his face.

“Evelyn Pedersen was your grandmother?” he asks, just to make completely sure.

“Fucking hell,” Isak says, like he can't believe Even knows her name. She was a friend of his grandmother's though, until she passed away, oh, seven years ago? Even remembers –

“Oh, fuck, I think I knew you as a kid,” he says.

“No, you did not,” Isak protests. “That's ridiculous, you're making that up.”

“No, I swear! My gran was friends with yours and she used to look after you sometimes after nursery school, right? I'd just started primary,” Even says. “I remember Evelyn visiting with her grandson a few times.”

“You're just guessing,” Isak insists.

“But I'm right, aren't I? Gran and Evelyn used to send us out to pick blueberries to tire us out – you got one stuck in your nose once!” Even says, and can't help laughing as he remembers. He's never quite sure how much of this story he actually remembers and how much is his grandmother's fond retelling of the way Even had apparently dragged a silently crying toddler into the living room by the hand, announcing very gravely that the boy had a berry stuck up his nose. As far as he remembers, they did actually take that boy – Isak apparently – to the doctor or the emergency room or something for it.

Isak looks something between horrified and amazed.

“I mean, I remember my gran's friend having a grandson a bit older than me,” he says carefully. “I always thought his name was Erik; kinda close to my gran's name but not quite, you know?”

Even grins and shrugs. “Well, you're still closer than me. I couldn't remember your name at all.”

“And your gran's still alive,” Isak points out drily, and finally lets Even lead him the rest of the way up to the door.

“I don't think she remembers your name either,” Even says. “Just that I got 'poor Evelyn's grandson' into so much trouble.”

“I knew that blueberry wouldn't have been my idea,” Isak says, and bumps their shoulders together.

Even grins. “You can't prove anything.”

“Because I literally have no memory of it. It's your word against no one's.”

“So I guess my word goes,” Even teases, and then leads Isak around the house to the forest right behind it.

It's admittedly a bit strange to bring a date to your grandmother's house, but berry picking sounded sweet when Even thought of it, and it's not like he could have predicted they'd unearth an even more statistically unlikely connection between the two of them. Turning back now would probably only make this whole thing more awkward than it really has to be – because so what if they knew each other once upon a time? Neither of them have much memory of it – and Isak is still following behind him, seemingly recovered from the earlier surprise.

Isak keeps his gaze trained to the ground, and he tugs on Even's hand when he wants him to stop, bending down to pick a handful of tiny, deep red strawberries.

“We should have brought bowls or something,” Isak says, and Even looks back towards his grandmother's house.

“I can go get some,” he says with a shrug.

Isak only shakes his head though.

“We'll just have to eat them all,” he says, and raises two of the berries up to Even's lips.

Possibly the kiss Even presses to Isak's fingertips after he's taken the berries from him isn't strictly speaking necessary, but it makes Isak's eyelids a little heavier, and his gaze stick to Even's lips when he licks the slightly salty taste of Isak's skin off them. The sunshine bounces golden off Isak's hair, and the wind gently waves it about. Even takes a tiny strawberry from the palm of Isak's other hand, and holds it up to his mouth for him. Isak rolls his eyes at him, but lets him feed him the berry, before he turns away and eats the rest of them himself. Even isn't even anything other than endeared by the smug smile on his face. He leans in and kisses Isak's lips, even though Isak's still chewing and can't quite kiss him back.

“You're sweet,” he says, quietly.

“That's just the berries,” Isak quips.

“No,” Even insists. “That's all you.”

Isak gives him a little shove, but lets him take his hand again and pull him a little further into the forest to where he remembers the largest patches of blueberry shrubs being. The forest isn't exactly quiet around them, but the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind, the various animal noises and twigs cracking under their feet is a far cry from the background noise of the city. It feels almost as if they're in a completely different place, with no one around for miles – so long as they don't look back at the row of houses still visible through the trees.

A good five minutes later Even does turn back to fetch them a bowl from his grandmother's kitchen, and Isak slowly fills it with strawberries, raspberries and blueberries, a smile constantly pulling at his lips while he lets Even tell him about the bits and pieces about Isak-as-a-toddler he remembers, calling him out whenever a story seems too outlandish to be true. It makes Even's heart about as full as the bowl of berries, to see Isak laughing at the stories he tells while occasionally pricking his fingers on a raspberry bramble.

Once they've filled their bowl, they turn back for Even's gran's garden, sitting in the grass in the warm sunshine and sharing the bowl of berries while talking about any- and everything. If anyone had told Even when he was nineteen and barely getting through a day at a time that one day he'd sit here with that pretty boy from the tram and he'd turn out to be more wonderful than Even could have ever dreamed up, he'd have probably laughed at them – and not just because he'd still been trying to make his doomed relationship work back then. It seems almost too good to be true.

Or maybe too simple. Fake, almost.

The pretty boy on the tram was never more than an idea. A distraction. Something shiny to pick up and look at when Even needed reminding that life was more than the disappointment he felt prickle under his skin when he looked at everyone who already knew him. That there were possibilities for other relationships, unburdened by his struggles. But that's not really true, is it? Even is who he is, and all the bad and good parts are just that – parts of him. He had to learn to dig the frustration and disappointment out of his thoughts, to let himself believe that there was more to him. Not to life, but to him, Even. He didn't need a shiny boy to kiss at the end of his quest like being handed some sort of reward.

In a way, Even thinks he's glad he only properly met Isak now. He likes who he is now. He has no way of knowing what would have happened then, and maybe it'd be fine. Maybe it'd still lead them here – into the sunshine with raspberry juice dripping from Isak's chin to his once white t-shirt.

“Messy,” Even laughs.

Isak rolls his eyes and wipes his chin off with his fingers before grabbing his t-shirt by the back of his neck and pulling it up over his head.

“Um,” Even says, gaze caught on acres of pale skin, the lines of Isak's torso defined between the gentle swell of muscles clearly used to working out.

“Oh, sorry,” Isak says, holding the shirt up in front of his chest. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Even says, and manages to drag his eyes up to meet Isak's gaze. “Just wasn't expecting it.”

“I just wanted to lay it in the sun,” Isak says, shaking the shirt in his hands a bit.

“Sure,” Even says, gesturing at the sunshine-bathed expanse of grass to their side as if inviting Isak to do just that.

Isak twists and Even watches the muscles in his side and arms shift and flex, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat.

Right.

Isak's shirtless.

That's fine. That's… that doesn't mean anything to Even. It's fine. Isak might look like a Hellenistic sculpture come to life, but that's fine. Even's fine.

“Comfortable?” Even grins when Isak turns back around and leans his weight on a hand propped a little behind himself.

Isak grins.

“Very,” he says. “I like summer.”

“So do I,” Even says, and if he's staring at Isak a little bit too obviously, at least it only makes Isak laugh.

“You can always take yours off too,” Isak suggests. “Level the playing field.”

Even's pretty sure his own barely more than skinny body doesn't hold the kind of aesthetic pleasure that Isak's does, but there's no way that's going to change anytime soon, so he might as well let Isak see now rather than in a few more dates. And it's silly, anyway, that stab of worry in Even's gut at that as he peels his own t-shirt off. He's never really worried about it before. He looks the way he looks and he's fine with it. This is just his body.

Isak grins at him and wiggles his eyebrows before grabbing a few berries.

“This is probably the most unusual date I've ever been on,” he says, lips pink with juice before he licks it off.

“Oops?” Even offers, not quite sure what to make of that. “If it's any consolation, I think this is the weirdest date I've ever taken anyone on.”

“I like that,” Isak grins. “It wouldn't be the same with anyone who hasn't shoved a blueberry up their nose at your command anyway.”

“You don't know if it was at my command!” Even protests. He doesn't really remember either, but he can't deny that the accusation is probably warranted.

“Yes, I do,” Isak grins and reaches for more berries. “I can feel it.”

“I'm sure you can,” Even says, only a little patronising, because he's too distracted by how Isak manages to get a little berry juice on his chest again. Has no one taught this boy to just pop the entire berry in his mouth? There's no need to bite them in half first. They're not that big.

But Isak does, and so Isak occasionally gets a drop of berry juice down on his chest that he then wipes off, sucking the juice off his fingers, while pale pink stripes stain his chest. It's a lot more distracting than Even would really like to admit to finding it, but between watching Isak's fingers and lips, and the way the colour on his chest keeps drawing attention, Even grows restless. He could just lean over and kiss Isak, at least a little bit, but he's not sure it would end with that little bit. And this is only their third date. Even's pretty sure that whole thing about how sex happens on the third date is a Hollywood myth. Isak stretched out opposite him on the grass though, his bare toes occasionally prodding at Even's knees while he eats berries like he's putting on a show is seriously making him want to test if there's any truth to it.

Instead he fills the air with chatter in the hopes of laying a blanket of noise over the humming of the tension between them. He keeps his legs crossed and his hands in his lap, one of them holding the other one back from reaching out and touching Isak where he's not sure he's welcome yet. Sure, he could just ask, but it feels a bit odd, even just to be thinking about this in his grandmother's backyard. Isak seems to be enjoying himself with the sun and the berries, so Even doesn't exactly regret taking him here, but somewhere closer to home, where he can drag Isak into a bed and build them a bubble just for the two of them wouldn't be so bad either.

“Even?” Isak interrupts Even babbling about the changes in fairytale illustration over the last century, making him snap his mouth shut and his cheeks go hot with more than just sunlight. He gets carried away, sometimes, in subjects that he's fascinated by but others know and care precious little about.

“Hm?” he asks, attention coming back from trolls, and elves, and princes, to find himself confronted with a still-gorgeous, still-shirtless Isak.

“Will you please just kiss me?” Isak says, amusement colouring his voice and curling around the corners of his lips. He laughs a little when Even does as he asks almost immediately, uncrosses his legs and gets up on his knees to crawl into the V of Isak's spread legs, carding a hand through Isak's hair to bury his hand in it at the back of his head before he leans in.

Until now their kisses have mostly been, if not exactly innocent and chaste, then not exactly adventurous either. This time Even goes in mouth open, licks at Isak's lips immediately and relishes the noise that pushes out of Isak's throat when he rubs their tongues together. He holds Isak close and doesn't let him pull away until his own lungs are starting to protest, and Isak's pulling out of his hold insistently. And even then it's only to gasp his breaths into Isak's skin, to trail his lips down the column of his neck and dip his tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat, by his clavicle. To suck the berry pink lines off his skin and leave his own pink marks behind instead.

“God, your mouth,” Isak sighs and leans further back, lets his elbow give in and lies down on the grass with Even hovering over him.

Even grins against the skin of his sternum and contemplates sucking a bruise there, but given how warm it currently is, he'd feel bad for putting Isak in a position where he'd have to decide if he wanted to hide it. He'll find another place to leave one. Instead he finds all the sticky traces of fruit on Isak's skin and drags his teeth over them, pushing his tongue against Isak's skin to rub them off, the salt clinging to Isak's skin almost stronger than the sticky fruit sugar left behind by the berries.

When he kisses one of Isak's nipples, Isak sighs and puts his hands in Even's hair, cards his fingers through it as though he's about to push Even further down. Instead he just holds on. Scratches gently and mindlessly at Even's scalp, making the hair at the base of his neck stand up and tingle while Even kisses a line down between the rows of Isak's abs, down to where they both want his mouth to be.

“Been thinking about this,” Isak sighs into the quiet, and Even hums a pleased noise.

“For the past week?”

“Longer,” Isak confesses, and the thought of Isak standing in the tram and looking at Even, imagining what it might feel like to feel his lips against his skin, makes Even's dick swell a little more between his legs.

“Yeah?” he asks, rubs the tip of his nose and his cheek against the skin of Isak's belly before turning his head again to press a more determined path of kisses further down until his lips meet denim and he lifts his head to look up at Isak.

Isak's chewing his bottom lip an even deeper pink, and Even leans up without thinking, captures it in another kiss and doesn't let Isak answer his silent question until both of their breathing has gone heavier.

“Yeah,” Isak sighs when Even pulls back. It takes him a moment to remember what they'd been talking about, but when he does, he leans back down to kiss at the line of Isak's jaw.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks.

“This,” Isak says. “Your mouth on my skin. Kissing me.”

Even hums and kisses at Isak's neck.

“I'm sure I'm not the first to tell you that your lips lend themselves to a certain kind of thought,” Isak says, voice a little rough.

“A certain kind of thought?” Even repeats, pushing his grin into Isak's skin. “Really?”

Isak laughs a little. The hand he's still got buried in Even's hair tightens a little and the other one presses down over his shoulder and back, feeling out the ridges of his spine.

“Really,” he says. “You've got dick-sucking lips, Even.”

He'd been goading Isak into it, and it isn't the first time he's heard it, but the words still ride a shiver up Even's spine and settle heavily in his mind. The knowledge that that's what Isak's been thinking about – Even's mouth on his dick.

“I got myself off thinking about it, actually,” Isak says, quietly like he's not sure Even wants to hear it.

Even groans into Isak's skin and nods a little.

“Tell me,” he encourages and lets his mouth guide his way back down Isak's neck and chest.

“I like it like this, on my back,” he says. “More than having someone on their knees for me.”

He sucks in a breath and exhales on a steady sigh, tries to calm his voice for Even.

“I'd think about what it would feel like to have you kiss my chest and my stomach, how soft your lips would be, how wet your mouth would get,” he says.

In response, Even pops the button of Isak's jeans, glances back up the sunlit expanse of his chest to see if Isak wants to protest. But Isak's face is turned upwards toward the sky, and Even can't even make out if his eyes are open or not. He doesn't stop Even, but he doesn't push him either, the weight of his hand in Even's hair a reassurance of Isak's presence more than a force urging him on. Even's grateful for it. He hasn't actually done this a lot, and not in a good while.

“I wondered what it would look like, to see you hovering over me with that look in your eyes like you wanted me as badly as I could imagine wanting you,” Isak goes on. It's heady, the thought that Isak hasn't just been looking back, but indulging himself in conjuring up scenarios where they got to touch, to kiss, to fuck. That he was as captivated by Even as Even was by him.

He feels Isak shift then, and when he looks up, he's propped himself up on his elbow to be able to look down at Even. The green of his eyes has gone a little darker with his pupils, but the light outside here in the garden keeps them pretty small.

“You're gorgeous,” Isak says, smiles a little bit almost, and Even feels himself smile back. “My imagination really didn't do you justice.”

Even huffs a laugh and nips at Isak's skin.

“Cheesy,” he grins, and Isak grins back.

“I told you I'm not good at drawing. Not even with my mind,” Isak says. “But I bet I'm good at imagining the sound's you'd make.”

Even does make a sound then, a high-pitched one that'd be slightly embarrassing if it didn't make Isak hum in return.

“Yeah, like that one,” he says.

Even fumbles with Isak's zipper, pulls it down and wonders if that zzzrp noise is one Isak imagined too.

“I love blowing people,” Isak says and lifts his hips when Even pulls at the waist band of his jeans, pulls them down just far enough so he can get Isak's dick out of his boxer briefs. His own throbs in between his legs at Isak's words.

“Love getting my mouth on them, the weight of a dick on my tongue and the soft skin,” Isak goes on. “Do you?”

Even doesn't answer, at least not with words, just wraps his lips around the tip of Isak's dick and rubs his tongue against it as he slides his head further down along the shaft.

“Oh,” Isak breathes, the body underneath Even going tense.

Even goes slowly, doesn't want to make himself take too much too fast, and brings up a hand to pump at the base of Isak's dick instead. Pulls off to get all of him wet and make the slide a little easier.

“I think you do,” Isak says, voice a little less steady now that Even's working up a rhythm between his hand and his mouth. “I want you to enjoy yourself too, yeah?”

Even moans in response and Isak keens as the light vibrations dance over his skin.

“Fuck yes,” he mumbles. “Feels good, Even.”

Even is enjoying himself. He's not exactly sure what he's doing, can't say it's the most skillful blowjob ever given, but he thinks he makes up for what he lacks in technique with enthusiasm. Isak's holding perfectly still underneath him and even though Even knows it's for his benefit, it makes him want to try harder, to be good enough for Isak's composure to break.

“God, look at you,” Isak says, the hand in his hair trailing forward to touch gentle fingers to his cheeks and forehead, pushing his fringe out of his face before tightening again in his hair, right at the crown of his head this time.

“You look lovely like this, with your cheeks flushed and your lips wrapped around my dick,” Isak says. He manages to make it sound almost gentle, like he told Even he likes the way he wears his hair or any other innocent compliment. And yet the meaning of his words rattles around Even's mind, echoes in between Isak's laboured breaths and the occasional curse falling from his lips.

“Fuck, yes, just like that.”

The hand in Even's hair goes a little tighter, and Isak's breathing goes heavier and heavier, so Even tries to push further, to take more of Isak's dick into his mouth. Makes sure to keep his lips tight around him and somehow remembers to let his other hand pet at the balls drawn tight underneath Isak's dick, primed for release.

It occurs to Even only then, that he needs to decide if he wants to pull off.

“Love your mouth, baby,” Isak breathes, and Even closes his eyes, tries to concentrate on what he's doing more than what it feels like to do it.

“Gotta pull off if you don't want it in your mouth, Even, I–” Isak starts and cuts himself off with a gasp.

Even pulls off and mouths at the skin stretched taut over Isak's hipbone instead, makes sure to rub his thumb over the tip of Isak's dick the way he'd just done with his tongue while he works a bruise into his skin, nipping at it with his teeth and soothing the sting with sucking kisses.

“Are you – fuck,” Isak moans. “Fuck, I'm gonna–”

“Come on, Isak,” Even says, turning his head so he can watch the glide of his hand over Isak's dick. “Show me.”

Now that Even's working him with his hand only, Isak lets his hips fuck up into the tight tunnel of Even's fist, his own hands curling into the grass underneath him, body pulled tight like a string. He's moaning small noises like a staccato melody, but when he comes his mouth opens wider noiselessly, body curling up and in on itself for a moment before he falls back down onto his back again, shivering through the aftershocks that Even milks him through.

“Oh, yes,” he almost sighs, hips undulating into Even's touch, and finally slowing to a halt.

“Fuck that was nice,” he says, voice a little scratchy, and reaches down to haul Even up, finding his lips in an open-mouthed kiss without hesitation.

The feeling of Isak's tongue against his sparks the embers of his own arousal and lets it flare up fast enough he has to stop himself from grinding down against Isak, let him worm his hand between them instead.

“Like this?” Isak asks, and Even nods, buries his face in the junction of Isak's neck and shoulder.

“God, you're wet already,” Isak breathes by his ear, clever fingers wrapping around Even's dick with a practised ease that has Even push down into his hand without thinking.

“There you go,” Isak mumbles. He turns to rub his face against Even's and then gently nips at the lobe of his ear, hand twisting around Even's dick as he screws down into the touch.

“Next time you'll let me blow you, yeah? Get my mouth around you and return the favour?” Isak whispers. Even doesn't do much more than moan and nod and let the rising waves of sensation pull him under, Isak's words turning into images in his mind; visions of Isak's kiss-pink lips stretched around his dick.

His orgasm is almost a surprise – right there and just out of reach in one moment, and already making him shudder against Isak in the next, his mind scrambling to keep up with the waves of it rolling through his body, making his hips roll in time with it.

“That was not what I'd planned,” he gasps when Isak lets go of him, remembering they're still in his grandmother's – thankfully quite private – backyard.

Isak laughs and presses a kiss to his hair.

“It was fun though,” he says.

Even grins into Isak's shoulder. It was fun.

“Didn't know berries did it for you,” Isak teases. “Should have known you weren't really after me but after my blueberries last week.”

“That's exactly what did it for me,” Even laughs and then finally pushes himself up.

Isak's stomach is a mess of his own come, and he's holding one hand up so the mess Even made of it won't drip down onto either of their jeans. When Even meets his eyes, Isak's are twinkling like he knows exactly what Even's thinking.

“We should go clean up,” Even says, and grabs Isak's other hand to pull him to his feet.

Isak leans in and presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to his lips, smiling against Even's mouth until Even smiles back.

“Bet your gran never thought you'd get me in this kind of trouble,” he teases, laughing when it makes Even groan.

“Why would you make me think about my grandmother right now?” Even complains, but follows after Isak quickly when he dances out of reach and towards the house.

There's blades of grass stuck to his bare back and the seat of his jeans is slightly darker from the moisture of the ground, but his hair still glows golden in the sunlight, and when he looks back over his shoulder, his smile looks brighter still. With his heart light in his chest Even thinks there's all sorts of trouble his grandmother hopefully never thought of that he wants to get into with Isak.

 

**The End**


End file.
